The Pictish Warrior
by chronicler-of-knuckles
Summary: There's nothing more thrilling than stealing another man's woman. Except maybe stealing his woman, horse, sword, magician, and, if Arthur ever catches up with him, a King's life!
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: The Pictish Warrior

* * *

They marched, a hundred strong, through the open gates of Camelot, spiked boots stomping the ground with such force they left broken stones in their wake. Blue

tattooed faces glared out from under horned and tusked helms. Thick fur capes hung from the shoulders of padded, hard leather brigandines. Heavy muscled arms, scored with scars and paint, held unsheathed long swords carelessly or bounced huge double bladed axes or hammers off their shoulders. Soft leather layered made short, barely decent kilts that hung half way down their thighs, leaving huge, strong legs for all to see. Tall, oval shields decorated with ancient symbols with some long ago meaning were strapped to their backs. Long, matted hair of varying colors, from black to red to lime dyed blond, flowed down backs and over shoulders.

In the lead, on small, shaggy horses were five large men. They were armed and dressed same as their men, for the exception of the center man who rode ahead of the others.

His cape was the skin of a giant lion, the mane framing his shoulders. Instead of a helmet, he wore a thick silver ring around his head, which, on either side, hung large, heavy white tusks. His face was covered in a thick, curly gray beard, matching the thick braids that hung over each shoulder. He carried no shield, but a long flame dagger strapped to each leg. He held a large flail over one shoulder, the spiked double balls rolling back and forth over the lion fur keeping to the rhythm of the sway of the horse.

Horns announced the arrival of the barbarian army as they entered the court yard of the citadel. A herald stepped forward to call out "Caw o Prydyn, the Hunter of the Great White Boar, Killer of the Black Witch, Conqueror of Giants…"

"Bah!" snorted one of the riders, swinging down from his mount. "'at little beast 'ey be callin' a giant? Well, now, me Fadder, what'd ya 'ink 'ey'd call 'em all grown up?"

His comment brought a roar of laughter from his army, but only a "Humph." From his father and King, Caw o Prydyn.

Young squires and servants rushed forward to take care of the mounts as the King's sons began to dismount, but the first snatched a hand full of tunic, dragging a hapless servant into his face and snarled "What's ya 'ink ya be doin' 'ere, lad? Ya 'ink ya can handle a real brute of a beast like ol' Shaggy? Ha! Get yer arse away from me an' me beast 'fore ah use yer hide to shoe his tired feet!" and he violently shoved the boy away, stumbling into another who had quickly rushed them both to a safe distance.

Again the riders and army laughed.

"Hueil mab Caw!" roared the King and instantly every man snapped to a silent attention. Once his men were settled, Caw o Prydyn nodded sharply down at the nearest servants.

The skinny, dark haired servant hesitated, but only slightly, before rushing forward to take the reins.

The heavy King swung down from his mount with far more grace than one would have thought from someone so bulky and old. He nodded his thanks to the servant, before spinning about, his lion cape snapping out behind him. His heavy boots made a clanking sound on the courtyard stone as he stomped across to his son. Without a word, without a sound, the King slammed the back of his armored fist across his son's face.

His head slammed to the side with neck popping force, but the young warrior made no move to defend himself. He kept his hard eyes down, diverted, letting blood drip unchecked from his split lip to the white stone between their feet.

Caw o Prydyn let his dark eyes drift over his men, then his sons, and, finally he snarled to the son before him "Ya dishonor me again, boy, an' ah'll split ya sure as ah brea'. Understood?"

"Aye, fadder, me King." breathed the son.

The old man snorted, casting one last look over his men. Then he snapped about and took his first step toward the steps. He paused for his sons to fall into their appropriate flanking positions. His dark eyes remained level, straight ahead as he lead the way across the yard to the steps that lead up to the citadel.

King Arthur, stood at the foot of the steps, flanked by his advisors, patiently waiting for his fellow King's approach. The red caped Knights of Camelot lined the walk that guided the precession, ending with the elite Knights of the Round Table.

"You think…" Percival whispered to Gwain, "if he'd actually hit the boy, ol' papa would o' gutted him right there and then?"

Gwain smiled slightly. "Yes." Was his one word answer.

His fellow knight glanced sharply at him. Percival had been joking, but, for once in his life, Gwain didn't sound like he was. "Are you…"

"Shhh!" came a hissed command from Leon. When he had the two's attention, he tilted his head toward King Arthur, reminding them as to why they were all there.

Truth told, Arthur was just as curios as the big Percival. The young King resisted the urge to frown at his guests' display. He knew these Northerners were rough, crude men with their own ideas of honor and polite behavior. They came from a harsh land that taught harsh lessons.

He knew before he had invited them that there would be… awkward moments. He just hadn't expected them right out of the saddle.

But Caw o Prydyn handled the situation quickly and true to his nature. He struck his own son, in front of everyone, in defense of… a servant?... or his honor? Did it matter as long as his barbarians stayed peaceful?

Putting the scene aside, Arthur stepped forward to greet the visiting King. "Your Majesty, welcome to Camelot." he offered with an honorific bow of the head, a greeting between Kings. Then offered his hand, a greeting between men.

Caw o Prydyn pounded an iron clad fist against his chest, before accepting the offered hand. "Aye, a fine city ya have here, King Ar-thur o Pen Dragon." he answered, struggling with the th sound not native to his language. "It is an honor to walk 'rough 'em gates wi'out havin' to knock 'em down first." He shrugged and smirked, throwing a glance at the Knights behind him. "'ough, it'd been interestin' to have given 'em a knock ah'm 'inkin'."

Arthur hesitated, but managed to force a slight smile. "Well, hopefully, we can make sure such… knocking won't ever be needed between us."

The Caw's expression was hard, his eyes glancing about at the many, many armed men from both kingdoms. "Aye, aye, 'ere be wisdom in 'at. 'ough some of 'e young may look at it in o'er light." His eyes flickered to the side as if he was about to send another glare at his son. But then his eyes refocused on Arthur. "An' some of 'e old, ah dare note. It'd be strange to take 'e hand of 'e son when 'e fadder only showed fist."

Arthur let his eyes drop for a moment, remember past discussions with his father over a moment just like this. The Caw and Uther had long time been rivals, fighting over the smallest of honors. He knew that, under King Uther's rule, there would never be anything but war between the two kingdoms.

But Arthur was not Uther.

And, damn it, he was getting tired of pointing that out to folks!

Taking a deep breath, Arthur raised his eyes again to give the Caw his best, strongest I-AM-KING! gaze. "Well, your Majesty, perhaps, together, we can teach both the young and the old a new trick or two. After all, one man can be strong. Many can be invincible!"

It was something Guises had told him to say. The Pictish warriors respected strength. But the Caw respects smart strength.

Caw o Prydyn's eyes narrowed for a breath, before, a slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Ah 'ink we, young Ar-thur, will have much to speak of." He nodded slowly. "Aye, much indeed."

0o0o0o0o0o0

The young girls huddled in the corner, giggling behind their hands, doing their damnest, and failing, to not seem obvious in their staring.

Though the Caw's sons and soldiers didn't seem too distressed at the scrutiny. The men stood about in the yard in front of their barracks, pushing each other about, comparing weapons with some of the knights that had wandered in for a closer look. Some had straddled a fence and were arm wrestling.

Merlin frowned at the girls as he walked pass, his arms loaded with Arthur's clean clothes for the night's feast. He paused as they giggled, but, when they gave him a murderous glare for blocking their view, he hurried pass. So quick to get out of their line of fire, the King's manservant spun around a corner and ran right into someone, dropping his whole arm load of clean clothing to the not so clean floor.

"Oh, excuse…" Merlin started as he dropped down to scoop up his fallen load. But his apologies ended in a curse as he inspected the once white tunic.

"oh, Merlin." Gwen giggled as she dropped down to help inspect the damage. Holding up one severely dusted shirt, she winced. "Oh, I hope Arthur wasn't expecting to ware…" She stopped when she saw Merlin's expression. She had to bite her lip to keep from giggling again.

Merlin groaned, dropping his head and shaking it. "Wonderful. Just… wonderful."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Merlin." The maid laughed. Scooping up an arm load, she offered "I'll help you."

As they stood, Merlin shook his head again. "No… no, everyone is running around with their own jobs… I can't ask…"

But Gwen stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Then don't ask. I know what you do for Arthur… and I'm sure he still needs a hundred things done for him before the feast. Give me the shirts and I'll get them taken care of." Huffing away his protest, she took the load and added with a laugh "Besides, I can get them to his rooms without running blindly around corners."

Merlin smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."

As they began walking down the hall, Gwen wanted to know "What were you running from anyway?"

"Oh, Rachel and the girls…" again he stopped in midsentence, blushing.

And again Gwen had to laugh at his discomfort. "Running from girls? Merlin, if the Knights knew of this…"

"Arthur runs from you!" Merlin shot back. "Besides, they weren't chasing me. They were cooing over the Picts." He wondered if he sounded as disappointed to her as he did to himself. Really? He chided to himself. Like he had time to moon over girls!

"Well, can't blame them." Gwen answered with a shrug. "Did you see how much they ware? Or, rather, how little?"

Merlin huffed. "According to Gwain, we should be glad they came in peace. You want to know what they ware in a fight?"

Gwen looked up at him and politely waited… and waited… and then elbowed him in the ribs. "What?" she insisted.

This time Merlin laughed. "Wow, aren't you demanding?"

"Do you want to do this laundry yourself?" she teased right back.

Merlin shook his head. Leaning close, he whispered in her ear.

Jaw dropped, eyes big, she stared up at him. "No…?"

The king's manservant shrugged. "Accordingly to Gwain." Then he grinned. "And we know he never expands on the truth."

Gwen laughed. "Oh, never…. But really? If they don't ware… well, anything… how do they keep from getting cut?"

"By not gettin' 'it." Was the answer offered from behind.

Both servants spun about to see two of the visitors behind them. The speaker of the two was the Caw's son, Hueil mab Caw.

Gwen recovered quickly, dipping in respect, offering "My Lords."

Merlin gave an awkward bob of the head, but he kept his eyes on the newcomers, not at all liking the way they looked at them. He suddenly felt like a mouse bobbing his head at a rather large cat.

Hueil's eyes slid down Gwen, then slowly crawled back up. "Aye, now, what ya 'ink 'bout 'ese two birds, 'eh, Eugrad?"

His fella, one of his brothers, slowly circled the two servants. "Aye, 'ey make a hungry man drool. Even the lad 'ere could satisfy a 'irst ah bet."

"Excuse me?" Gwen snapped. She spun about, dragging Merlin with her, putting the wall to their backs.

"Would ya look at 'at?" Eugrad chuckled. "Ah 'ink at lass has her some growl."

"Grrr." Hueil offered, baring his teeth somewhere between a sneer and a grin.

Merlin stepped in front of Gwen. "Is there something I can do for you? I am King Arthur's personal servant…"

"Ha!" Eugrad's hand snapped out, grabbing Merlin by his tunic and dragging him so close their noses would have touched… if Merlin had been a head taller. "An' what does a personal servant do fer 'e King?"

"Hey!" Gwen protested, but when she stepped forward to help her friend, Hueil wrapped his arm around the girl's waist, pulling her off her feet and against him. "Let me go!" she cried, slamming her fists uselessly against his heavy chest.

Hueil only laughed. "'ey so pretty, ah don't know which one to kiss first." And he nuzzled into the girl's neck, his teeth nipping her soft flesh.

Gwen cried out, kicking her feet. "Get off me!"

Merlin dropped his eyes, his hands wrapping around his captor's wrists. "Teine." He barely whispered.

Suddenly Eugrad let out a curse of pain and threw the boy against the stone wall with such force the world went black.

When light crept into Merlin's world again he was laying on the floor, leaning against the wall.

Ah, damn, he thought when he noticed the laundry on the floor again.

But then a cry cut through his foggy head, reminding him why the laundry, not to mention himself, was on the floor. He blinked away the flashes until he could see Gwen, now in Eugrad's arms, kicking and yelling at the Pict brothers.

Hueil nudged him painfully with the toe of his boot. "Ya still alive?" When Merlin smacked the foot away, he chuckled. Crouching down, he eyed the boy. Grabbing a fist full of hair, he tilted his head this way and that. "Wal, 'en, li'le mouse. Ya got yerself a bit of a growl too." He chuckled.

"Merlin!" came a loud, gruff voice from down the hall.

Instantly the Picts released their holds on the servants, backing away until they stood side by side, facing the interruption.

Gwain and Leon were coming down the hall, their long limb strides full of meaning. Though Leon's hand was on his sword hilt, his expression very serious, Gwain was grinning, his arms spread like he was offering a hug.

Hueil chuckled. "Gwain… lad, ya got all shiny." He accused.

Gwain chuckled back. "Well, Hueil, always getting into trouble."

Leon quickly took Gwen by the arm, directing her behind him, before easing toward Merlin. His eyes never left the brothers. He was angry to see the servants, two so close to his King and the Knights, treated as such, but he was too good of a knight to start trouble that could be, otherwise avoided.

So he waited for Gwain to start it.

The rough and tumble Knight kept his grin in place as he shook his head. "Been a long time, friend. Didn't think you'd be in the Caw's guard. You never were one for the city bustle. You or Eug." He nodded his head in greeting to the second Pict.

Eugrad huffed. "Like ya were ever a city folk, Gwain. What ya be doin' in 'is spit 'n' polish domain? 'e 'ought ya'd been banished from high 'n' mighty life."

"Well, you'd be surprised how grateful a king can be when you look after those he cares about." With a tilt of his head, he indicated the two servants.

Eugrad's eyes went big with disbelief. "Aye? 'e li'le mouse? 'e be kin to Ar'ur?"

"Damn well close enough." Leon growled. He reached down and took Merlin by the arm, dragging the boy to his feet.

Gwain chuckled again. He glanced at the boy. "Little mouse? Now there's a description." When Merlin simply frowned at him, he laughed, shaking his head. But then he turned his attention back to the trouble makers. "Hueil, Eug… my friends, why don't I take you down to the tavern where you can find good drink and some willing lasses to lay away the time the high and mighty spend making boring speeches and looking pretty?"

Eugrad snarled, one hand rubbing a red spot on his wrist, his eyes boring into Merlin. "Ah'd like ta have a word or two wi' li'le mouse, 'ere." He took a step around Gwain.

Leon instantly shoved Merlin back against the wall as he turned full on, ready to take Eugrad if he dared another step.

But Gwain stopped the Pict with a hand to the man's chest. "Now, Eug, you know me well enough." He told the man in low, dangerous tones. "Do you really think I'm going to let you another step closer to that boy?" All fun and friendliness was gone from every detail of the Knight. Gwain may have been a friend a breath before, but, now, he was a Knight of Camelot. Let there be no doubt.

Eugrad's lips curled, his eyes glancing down at the hand at his chest. He had known Gwain a long time, ran with him in all sorts of trouble up north, before Gwain became all respectable and such. Back then, Eugrad knew better than challenge the hot head. Foreign he was in his the Caw's land, but few mightier warriors had there been.

But, now, all shiny and pretty in his bracers and chain, spit and polished… a good Pictish Warrior just may think the man had gone soft.

Hueil had other thoughts. Reaching out before his brother could answer the challenge, he snatched Eugrad's arm and pulled him back a step. "'ink we can find 'at tavern on our own, friend Gwain." He answered, his grin never fading. He tugged on Eugrad's arm until his brother grunted a curse and obeyed, turning and stomping back the way they had come. But Hueil waited, letting his eyes drift over Gwen again.

The girl fidgeted uncomfortably under the scrutiny. Still she managed to force strong, hard eyes up to glare right back at the Pict, just daring him to make a move on her again. If only he knew her hand was wrapped tightly around the hilt of the small dagger in the folds of her skirt. If only he knew she was not only able, but more than willing, to use it… if the need arose.

"hmmm…" the big man seemed to purr. "what a growl." He admired. Then his eyes found Merlin. They narrowed slightly. "Some 'in' 'e willin' always manage to be lackin' is 'at growl. We'er it be a sweet lass or a wee li'le mouse." With a lick of his lips, he gave Gwain a friendly swat on the shoulder, then spun about and hurried after his brother as if there was somewhere they were meant to be.

Gwain stood where he was for a moment, waiting for the echo of their boots on the stone floor to fade, before he turned. Just in time to as he jumped forward to catch Merlin as he was sliding back down to the floor. "Woe, there, little mouse. Where do you think you're going?" he teased.

Bleary eyes blinked up at him. "You're not gonna start calling me that now… are you?" he mumbled.

Leon finally chuckled. "Well, it does suit you."

Merlin groaned, dropping his head in his hands.

"ouch." Gwain observed, seeing blood where Merlin's head had bounced off the wall. "Come on. Better take time to visit Guise." He took a strong hold on Merlin's arm, and half lifted, half guided him away from the wall.

"I'm fine!" Merlin protested and gave his arm a yank, trying to free himself.

Which only threw himself off what little balance he had, and he would have fallen to the floor again if not for the Knight's unbreaking hold.

Still…

"I have work to do! Who's gonna get the King dressed if… Gods, he'll show up with his shirt on backwards and no pants if I'm not there!"

"I'm sure King Arthur will manage a few minutes without you." Leon assured.

"Besides, with what his guests are wearing, you think anyone would notice?" Gwain laughed. Despite their mirth, the Knights exchanged looks over the two servants' heads, assuring the other that neither charge would be left unprotected.

The only reassurances for Merlin, though, came from Gwen, who called after him "I'll take him his clean clothes, Merlin. Don't worry."

With a sigh, Merlin finally surrendered. Not that he had much of a choice. Gwain already had him through the door and heading for Guise's apartments.

After a few stumbling, silent steps…

… very unlike either Merlin or Gwain…

… Merlin looked up at his protector and observed "You knew them… from before Camelot."

Gwain didn't bother to look at the boy as he lead on. "I wandered wide and far before Arthur gave me a home, Merlin." He admitted, though it didn't really answer anything.

Merlin frowned up at him. He wasn't sure if he was seeing a flicker of fear in the Knight's eyes or if the spinning world was playing tricks on him. "You don't like them." He suggested when he couldn't seem to make sense of things himself.

At that Gwain paused. Still not looking at his ward, he slowly licked his lips, thinking about how to answer. "Eugrad is mean. He will take what he wants, when he wants it, no matter the cause or the pain." He frowned, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Then he started them walking again. "But he will obey his father. He has no doubt that Caw 'o' Prydyn will lay him dead with one swing if he tarnishes the old man's honor."

The young socerer digested that for a moment. Again it hadn't really been an answer… yet, maybe what hadn't been said was what was important. "And the other one?"

Gwain flinched.

Now Merlin knew he saw it: fear! Gwain was afraid of the other one, the Hueil mab Caw.

Just before they reached Guise's door, Gwain turned Merlin and leaned him against the wall. He faced his young friend and met his gaze, eyes to eyes. "Whatever happens, Merlin, promise me you will stay far away from Hueil."

Merlin frowned. "You know what he said in the hall? What he and his brother were said they wanted to do to Gwen… and me?"

Gwain sighed. "Gender has little meaning to the Picts. Look at their guard. Ten, at least, are women. And just as tough and mean as the men. They live with a very different idea of honor than we do. In their world, if you aren't strong enough to keep what is yours, than it was never yours to begin with. And, with that belief, Hueil is a very rich man, second only to the Caw… and his father grows old with every passing moment."

The boy's head tilted to one side. "Is that why the Caw hit him? Remind him that he's still strongest? That he's still Caw?"

The Knight blinked, then shrugged. "Who knows what goes on in their heads. Just… Just stay away from, them, Merlin. Hueil won't care if he throws the kingdoms into war. Damn, he prefer it. You and Gwen… well, you'd just make it all that much more fun for him."

Merlin opened his mouth for further inquire, but Gwain grabbed his arm again, pushing open Guise's door.

* * *

Author's Note: Just wondering if there's an interest in this story. Please FB.


	2. Chapter 2

The Pictish Warrior:

Chapter 2

King Arthur leaned against his window frame, his arms crossed over his bare chest. He watched the going ons below as people hurried this way and that, preparing for the night's banquet. They hurried on with their business, chattering among themselves as everyday sort of folks did, their words too far away to be heard by the young King, yet still likely to be the same as all the others Arthur had heard.

There was a feeling in the castle, in the city, in the land beyond… a feeling of excitement, of curiosity, of peace.

But there was also that hint of fear.

Like the coming of any new era, whether it be peace or war, it was the same feelings.

More so for the King who reins in such eras.

Arthur couldn't help but wonder if his father had good reasons for keeping these northern warriors at a distance. They were rough, crude, barbaric…

The King shook his head with a huff.

Yes, yes, he had been over all this ten times over, and ten times that. If there was to be peace in the kingdom, than differences must be accepted…

And what difference that could not be accepted must be over looked.

A crash sounded from the yard as a servant went stumbling back to the ground, his tray of this and that's scattering.

Arthur pushed away from the sill, frowning as he watched a pair of Picts stand over the fallen man. They chuckled, pushing each other, amused with the chaos they were causing. But, before anything went further, Knight Elyan had stepped out from under the eaves, his hard eyes finding the Picts.

The two trouble makers stifled their laughter behind gloved hands, before, throwing the Knight a mock salute, continued on their way.

Elyan watched them go, then turned and offered his hand to the servant, and everyday bustle continued in the yard.

Arthur relaxed, if only a bit. Trust in the Knights to be close at hand to rein in the rowdy visitors.

Uther would have met these Picts at the border with an army to dwarf any in his time. He would have fought the Caw bare knuckled if he must… probably preferred if only to prove that he had been the stronger man. That was the way it was for the two men: who was stronger, who was mightier, who had the most, who, who, who…

From boyhood rivals to kingly advisories.

For the pride of two old men, the two kingdoms had been snapping and snarling at each other for half a century. Battles had been fought, won and lost. Blood spilt. Lives had been forsaken. Homes destroyed. Farms burnt.

Arthur hoped for something different for his people.

Peace.

What would his father have to say about Picts wandering Camelot?

Probably throw his only son right in a cold, hay strewn cell right alongside Hueil mab Caw.

Arthur tilted his head slightly when he heard his chamber's door open behind him. "Merlin… about time!" he growled, turning to face his wayward servant. "Where have you been? If I've heard you've been in that tavern again…" his sentence ended in a choke as he found himself, shirtless, shoeless, breeches untied, hair messed, facing the girl of his dreams. "G… Gwen… What… Wh… where's… Gwen." Awkwardly, he crossed his arms over his chest, hoping the warmth in his cheeks wasn't blushing.

Gwen bit back a smile, trying to avert her eyes for her King's sake. "Oh… um, Arthur…" She curtsied, then quickly sat a stack of folded clothing on his bed.

"Gwen." Arthur said again. He glanced sharply at Leon who was doing his very best not to smirk at his King's discomfort. Licking his lips and mustering some small amount of dignity, he asked "Where is Merlin?"

"Um… well, Merlin had an… accident." Gwen paused, glancing up at Leon.

The Knight had lost his amusement. "He had a run in with a couple of the Caw's sons." He expanded.

Arthur's head came up, his eyes narrowing.

"He's alright." Gwen quickly assured. Again she looked up to Leon.

Leon nodded. "Dazed and bruise, but he should be alright. Gwain took him to Guise."

"What happened?" Arthur wanted to know.

"They were just getting rowdy." Gwen answered, waving her arms as she spoke as if to wave off his concern. "Merlin and I just happened to stumble upon them in a… a particularly rowdy moment."

"You? You and Merlin?" Arthur repeated, a sudden rage boiling up. "Did they hurt you? Gwen, if any of them…" he started for her, but Gwen stopped him with an upraised hand.

"Really, it was nothing. Merlin took the worse of it." Gwen shrugged as if to remind them that Merlin was, well, Merlin.

"The Knights are wandering the halls, making sure… accidents are kept to a minimum." Leon promised.

Arthur turned back to the window, glancing to where Elyan had intervened on just such an accident a moment ago. He wondered how many accidents would happen to his people in his attempt to heal old wounds.

He let a balled up fist rest against the window sill, hungry to hit something. "Damn." He breathed. Shaking his head in a moment of self-doubt and guilt, he wondered in a near whisper "What am I doing? What right do I have to bring such danger into our homes?"

All thoughts of proper behavior set aside, Gwen quickly crossed the room. "Arthur, Camelot… your people are no strangers to bumps and bruises." She offered. "How long have we warred on our boarders, bled for reasons beyond our understanding? You, our very noble king, offer us a hope of peace and safety. And not just for ourselves, but, with every friend in every kingdom you make, for our future, our children children. For that, we will smile at their vulgar humor and ignore their snide comments." She laid a hand on his bare back. "Arthur, we are not so fragile a people that we can be chased into hiding by a few ruffians who would try and smudge our King's quest for peace."

"And a noble quest it is." Leon offered his support in a somewhat clumsy way of reminding the two that he was still in the room.

Arthur looked down into those deep eyes of Gwen's, finding a wealth of honesty and strength. Somehow he could always find a rekindling in those eyes. When he felt lost, alone, without hope, one smile from Gwen, one breath of locked eyes…

He worked his jaw for a moment, before taking a deep breath and straightening himself. "An accident, you say?" he asked over his shoulder of his Knight.

'Course if it hadn't been an accident, then, as King, protector of his people, something would have to be said.

Leon fidgeted, never very comfortable with stretching the truth. "Yes, Sire, she did say accident."

Gwen smiled slightly, dropping her eyes. She promised she would find Leon something sweet from the kitchen later.

"Well, then…" Arthur turned once again to face the problem at hand. And a glance down at his near unclothed body and a sudden realization that Gwen was very close… "Um…"

Oh, please don't be blushing, please don't be blushing, please don't be…

Gwen quickly curtsied and headed for the door. "If his Majesty needs anything else…."

"Fine!" Arthur coughed. "I'm fine, thank you. Please… Please hurry on to your own duties. I'm quite capable of dressing myself, thank you, and… um…"

"She's gone, m' lord." Leon pointed out.

"I know that!" Arthur snapped.

The Knight bobbed his head, then started to follow.

"Leon." Arthur stopped him. "Um… keep close to her, would you? I mean…" He tilted his head, hoping the man would fill in the blanks without him having to actually further embarrass himself.

Leon nodded once. "And Gwain is keeping close to Merlin. We'll keep them out of harm's way." He promised. He paused to eye his King. "Do you want me to send someone… to help…?"

"For crying out loud! I can dress myself!" Arthur roared. "Why do people keep thinking I can't? Really? I can run a kingdom, but not strap on my own sword?"

Again Leon bobbed his head, this time to hide his smile, and hurried from the room.

With a huff, Arthur spun about, determined to prove his point. "Well, damn… where is my sword?"

0o0o0o0o0

In his own elegant chambers not too far from the King of Camelot's, the Caw 'o' Prydyn was wrestling with his own self-doubt and concerns.

He watched the scenes playing out in gentle Camelot outside his own windows with an odd feeling of longing. For more generations than any could tell, his people had fought and bled for reasons not their own. From every direction, invaders, conquerors had come. And only the sheer fierceness of his people had kept them true and free. They had lost everything through the ages: life, land, home, heart, even name.

Picts was a name the Romans had given them for their painted faces. So terrifying were they, the great conquering beast of the Roman empire had stopped at sight of this painted people, these northern barbaric tribes of so-called Man.

Caw huffed with dry amusement.

Yes, they had lost even their name, long forgotten to wasted time and spilled blood.

But their freedom!

Now their freedom was the one thing that could never be taken away from them. Not a boy, not a woman, not a man, not a dog would lose his freedom before his life!

So, he wondered, what was he doing here, answering the call of the seed of his old nemeses?

So, the lad swears he is no Uther.

So, he swears he wishes no more land, no more conquest.

So, he swears to peace and only peace.

Well, if he swore all that, and kept to it, then maybe he wasn't no Uther.

This boy King did open the gates to his precious city, welcoming an army that would happily sack, pillage, and do other such indignities to its pretty, little citisans.

The lad was either very brave or very stupid.

Caw shook his head. He had known Uther many years. No man knew another as greatly as his greatest archrival.

Uther Pendragon had been many things, neither of which had been cowardly nor stupid.

The old King shook his head again, sighing wistfully. "Ah, ya ol' dog, U'er. If'n we'd finished 'is long ago on the field o' battle, man to man, blade to blade… mayhap 'is'd be a better day… an easier day."

He regretted the way his advisory had died.

A coward's blade in the middle of the night…

Still, by all reports, Uther, ill and wounded, died bravely and with honor, protecting his defenseless cub as any old wolf-hound would.

"Fadder?"

Caw 'o' Prydyn's eyes shifted just enough to see one of his sons…

… which one? He had so many and his old mind weathered harshly of late...

… he wondered, sometimes, if he had shared in Uther's passing and his old mind had simply forgotten to lie down…

"What?" he snapped, angry at his own weakness, than the interruption.

"Ah beg pardon, Fadder…" It was one of the younger ones, one of them he had seen educated.

Humph, we'll see what an education does for a free man, eh.

"Never beg!" Caw growled as he pushed away from the window and stomped over to the table where his advisors stood, waiting for his attention. "True men don't beg!" He dropped heavily in a large, cushioned chair and paused to marvel at the softness of the fur lined cushions and the smooth curve of the oak carved arms. "'ese delicate critters sure know 'ow to make a good seat, eh?"

Gareth, one of the older educated sons, chuckled. "Well, father, they've had time to master sitting their delicate bodies next to warm, cozy fires in the long, harsh winters we freezed and starved in."

Caw eyed him suspiciously. He liked the way the boy thought at times, but his manner of speaking… he was sure educating that one had been a mistake. Books and otherworldly thinking had fouled him somehow. He just seemed… wrong.

"My Caw," spoke up another man, some adviser sent from some clan who spoke prominently in support of their King, so won themselves his ear. "Ah advise caution, here, in 'e land of our enemy."

"Really? Ya don't say?" The old man barked out a laugh. "an' what might ya say I be weary o', here, in 'e land o' our enemy?" He waved a hand about, answering before anyone else could. "Be it 'e white towers or 'e loyalty o' a people 'or 'eir boy-King? Or 'em mighty pretty lookin' Knights 'ey lined up so nice an' neat 'or our approval? Mayhap it be angry 'olk not liken 'e peace put be'ore ol' scores? 'ey, mayhap it be ma own sons runnin' amuck an' causin' war right 'ere an' now?"

"Fadder…" protested the youngest son, quickly stepping forward to swear his faithfulness.

But the old Caw surprised them all by leaping to his feet and shoving his son so hard he stumbled back to fall across a chair. "Ya 'ink ah am a 'ool?" he roared at the room. "U'er is dead! Let dead be dead! 'e only enemies ah 'ave in 'is realm ah brought wi' me. An', ah swear upon ma blood, ah will see where loyalties stand an' 'all be'ore ah return 'ome!" He raised a finger, shaking it at each man. "Ah know each o' ya an' ah know yer hearts. Why did ya 'ink ya got ta come along? 'Cause yer ma favorites? Nay, 'ow 'bout 'cause ah didn't trust ya 'ome alone wi' 'e women 'olk!" He kicked the chair out of his way and headed back for the window to gaze out at the clean, beautiful city of Camelot. "Ah will 'ave peace in ma dying day. Ah will see a sunset an' not wonder whose o' ma kin be burnin' now. Ah will 'ave lastin' peace an' freedom 'or ma people. An' if'n Ar'ur be 'e man ta brin' 'bout such, wal, 'en…." His voice faded away as his thoughts wandered.

After a silent moment, his head suddenly snapped about to glare at the gathered men. "What ya all standin' 'bout 'or? Be gone! Leave! Get out! Ya stinkin' pack o' craven beasts! Mount ya on ma 'elm like ol' white fang, ah will!"

His men scattered, quickly finding their way out of the room, leaving only Gareth behind to silently watch over the brooding Caw 'o' Prydyn.

0o0o0o0o0o0

A/N: Boy, try to read some of those accents out loud and you'll end up crying.

So, Caw 'o' Prydyn and sons come from the old, old, old Arthinian Legends that tell of an archrival of Arthur's. Can you guess which one is the rival?

'Course, I bent it to fit it to our own beloved Merlin fandom. Hope I don't bend it too far out of frame.

Again, please, feedback.


	3. Chapter 3

The Pictish Warrior

Chapter Three

* * *

Merlin winced, ducking his head.

Gaius sighed. "Sit still." He chided, placing a hand on the top of the boy's head, holding him still while he dabbed at the back of his head with a damp cloth.

His student let out a most discontent groan, but he knew better than to protest further.

Gwain chuckled. "Serves you right." He straddled a bench, popping grapes in his mouth. "Next time run the other direction." Was his advice.

Merlin frowned at him. "You think I would have gotten far?"

The Knight barked out a laugh. "No!" He popped another grape, grinning at him.

"Huh." Merlin huffed. Before he could come up with a snide response, Gaius took his hand, put the damp cloth in it, and guided it up to the wound on the back of his head.

"Well, you won't die… today anyway." The old man told him with a warm smile. "As long as you stay away from our visitors, that is."

"That's what I told him." Gwain pointed out.

Merlin sighed. "I'll do my best." He promised, but added "but I'm supposed to be at Arthur's table. And if he's going to be anywhere near them…"

"Of course he will." Gaius answered. But then another concern beyond his apprentice's safety came to mind. Looking sharply to Gwain, he asked "Is Arthur safe?"

"There's a big difference between having fun with a servant or two and taking on the King of a nation in his own land." The Knight assured. "Besides, the Knights don't intend to be too far from Arthur at any time."

Gaius didn't look too assured when he shared a glance at Merlin. Still, he kept quiet as he returned his medical supplies to their proper place.

Gwain's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched the two. Then, he shrugged. He knew that there was plenty between the King's physician and manservant that could never be understood by anyone else. He just guessed it was that way between fathers and sons… even if the relationship wasn't of blood.

So, with a huff and a slap on the table, the Knight rose to his feet. "Speaking of our great and noble King… You good?" he asked Merlin, offering his hand.

With a shrug, Merlin tossed the cloth on the table and let Gwain haul him to his feet. For a breath, he closed his eyes, letting a moment of dizziness pass. But it did pass, and, taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes again and offered a weak smile. "No. But since when did it matter?"

Gwain grinned, and popped another grape.

0o0o0o0o0o0

"Gwain!" came a call from down the hall as the two friends made their way for the dining hall.

The Knight turned, setting a hand on Merlin's shoulder, making sure his charge wouldn't go on without him.

One of the Caw's sons was approaching them. Unlike his countrymen, this Pict wore black trousers and tunic. His reddish hair was brushed out neatly, and his chin was shaved clean. Despite his long legs and broad chest, his strides were smooth and light, carrying him with an elegance seen more often in Camelot's fine halls than the rough high lands of the Pictish home.

Though Merlin tensed at the sight of the foreigner, Gwain visibly relaxed. Grinning, the Knight stepped forward to meet the new comer. "Gareth!" he greeted, clasping the man's hand in both of his, giving him a strong shake, before pulling him in for a quick hug. "Damn, you've sprouted up tall! Ireland treated you well." he declared, holding him at arm's length and giving him a good looking over.

"A just life does justice for the soul as well as the body." Was the smooth answer.

Merlin actually chuckled, drawing the attention of the two men. He shrugged apologetically, saying "Gaius is always telling me feed the mind is to feed the body."

Gareth smiled. "Indeed." He looked Merlin up and down. "Is this the little mouse Eugrad was so taken with?"

Merlin's eyes widen slightly. "Taken with?"

Even Gwain lost some of his good cheer at that. "He is, is he? What about Hueil?"

Gareth looked at his friend. "Hueil is curious, but will keep our Father's peace. Eugrad, though, rages. Seems your mouse bit him. Eugrad doesn't suffer bites too well." He shrugged slightly. "Not at all, if truth be told." Again he looked at Merlin. "Tread softly, little Mouse. My brother will seek resolution to his ills, and, I fear, he may risk the wrath of all Kings of all lands to see his way done."

"I can handle Eugrad." Gwain assured Merlin with a quick smile, but the laughter was gone from his eyes.

Even the young servant could tell Gwain wasn't completely sure himself. But was it Eugrad or Hueil that set him back?

Apparently Gareth had concerns himself. "Gwain, these are not the childish bullies you knew when Father took you to his hearth. Like I, they have grown, but they have grown full of spite and envy."

"Well," Gwain sighed. "I've grown a mite myself." He pointed out. But then he offered them both a smile. "Hey, and don't underestimate our little mouse, here." He slung an arm over Merlin's shoulders. "He'll surprise you if you're not keeping a close eye on him."

Gareth tilted his head. "I am sure of that."

"Gare', lad!"

The men turned to see the Caw o Prydyn crossing the courtyard toward them, flanked by his sons and advisors.

"Merlin, go see to Arthur." Gwain quickly ordered, glancing ahead to make sure the way was clear.

Merlin frowned, feeling a bit like he was being sent from the room so the adults could talk grownup stuff. Damn he hadn't been that young since he could walk. Still, something in the Knight's manner told him this was important to Gwain.

So, with a slight nod, Merlin hurried down the hall.

Gwain turned to see the Caw reach his son with a snort. "Runnin' off like 'at!" he accused. "What trouble ya sniffin' out, eh?"

Gareth folded his hands before him and bowed his head in respect. "I seek no trouble, Father. Only an old hunt brother. Do you remember Gwain? It has been many seasons and we have all grown some, but his smile and laugh are as strong as the day you found him and brought him home to thaw at your hearth." He stepped aside and nodded to the Knight.

Gwain bowed. "Caw o Prydyn." he offered softly, his chest tightening with fond memories of a time long lost to him.

The old man stepped up close, his eyes narrowed as he inspected him. Then he smiled. "Aye, aye… ah knew it'd 'ave been a friend o' 'e Picts to brin' about ol' PenDragon. Lad, it'd been far too long since we had a hunt wor' a damn since ya left us!" he chuckled. "It'd been 'e lasses, weren't it? Chased one too many til 'ey started chasin' back, eh?"

Gwain chuckled. "Something like that."

Again, those dark eyes looked long and hard at him. "Ha! Ah bet." The Caw lied.

He knew damn well why the man he had loved like one of his own sons had left and it had more to do with the boys than the girls of his clan. They didn't handle losing well and they had lost one too many times to Gwain to let him stay.

But Gwain shrugged the past off, saying "New home, new life."

"Aye, a brave an' mighty Knight, Camelot's finest." Eugrad huffed.

"Aye!" snapped the Caw, barely glancing back at his unruly son. "Brave an' mighty! 'e noble Knights shine a mighty example 'cross 'e lands, Eugrad. Be wise for once in yer life, lad. Watch! Learn! Mayhap one day you'd do me proud an' help someone o'er 'an yerself!"

Eugrad ground his teeth, but Hueil's hand on his arm kept him in his place.

"Yes, Father. To right wrongs and serve their King… there is no higher nobility." Gareth agreed, eyeing his brothers, wondering why Hueil was holding back. Usually he was the loudest and boldest. This calm was unsettling.

But Hueil only smiled back, revealing nothing in his bright eyes.

Gareth exchanged equally concerned glances with Gwain.

The Knight bowed his head as Knights were expected to do, then stepped aside, offering "May I escort the Great Caw o Prydyn to the dining hall?"

"Great?" the old Caw huffed. "Bah! What did you call me when knee high an' full of vinegar?" he wondered as he fell in step beside the Knight.

Gwain chuckled. "Oh, I was much less noble and righteous in those days."

"I believe, my Caw, it was…" Gareth paused to clear his throat, "… Goad." When Gwain threw him a glare, he quickly excused "Admittedly, many mistook our markings for our name."

"Loss of heritage, loss of name…" Eugrad snarled. "What more shall we sacrifice for low land's glory?"

"Silence!" Gareth hissed. "Do not dishonor our Caw with your disrespect and self-pity!"

"Psht." Their father spat, waving a hand in the air, dismissing the talk. "Ah am hungry! An' yer bickerin' bore me! Go! Be 'way from me! Gwain will see me to me meal." And, with that, he took Gwain's arm, and the two of them started down the hall.

Gareth waited for his father to be out of ear shot before he spun on his brothers. "What are you playing at, Hueil?" he demanded.

"Aye, blood o' mine, what game would ya 'ink ah be playin'?" Hueil wondered with his ever present smile.

"Oi, what blood 'at be?" Eugrad hissed, shoving pass. He paused to look the black clad Pict up and down. "What son o' Caw sheds his markin's an' language like scrubbin' 'way filth?"

"I do not forget who I am!" Gareth snapped. "I am the son of the great Caw o Prydyn! Do not forget who you are!"

"Great!" Eugrad huffed. "Great was lost 'e day we willied 'rough 'em gates ra'er 'en knock 'em down an' set 'is shiny, pretty city ablaze! U'er? Ar'ur? Who cares who stands before us as long as he falls like 'e sicken calf 'ey all are?"

"Eugrad." Came Hueil's strong, calm voice. "Now we stand wi' our Caw. We…" he paused to smile down at Gareth as he pushed pass to join Eugrad, "so un-noble sons of Great Caw o Prydyn serve our King." With that, he and the envoy continued after their Caw, leaving Gareth standing alone, wondering just what his brothers were up to.

0o0o0o0o0

King Arthur took a deep breath. Damn, he hated these formal dinners.

Little wine, little please-don't-declare-war chit chat, embarrassing spills, uncomfortable silence, the constant concern that something's on your face…

"Well, if you expect me to serve you in the hall, you can certainly think again."

Arthur glanced back sharply. "Merlin…" he started, glad to see his servant. Even if he was the worse servant in the world, things seemed to have the nasty habit of going right when he was around.

But then he remembered that he was the King and Merlin was the worse servant in the world.

With a huff, Arthur crossed his arms over his chest and turned back to the dining hall beyond the entry way. "Really, Merlin, you will serve me where and when I so desire." He pointed out, his chin up, just daring the snapping comeback he knew was on the way.

Merlin smiled slyly. "Whatever his royal pratness desires."

Arthur huffed again, then sent his friend a sideways glance. "How's the head?"

The servant shrugged. "Still there."

"For better or for worse?" the young King wanted to know with a chuckle. He looked back to see the reaction to the jibe.

Merlin was looking him up and down with raised eye brows. "Depends."

Arthur frowned. "Depends on what?"

"Did you dress yourself?"

"Ye-es…"

Merlin smirked.

"What?"

Merlin reached behind his King and tugged his tunic down to cover his back.

Arthur frowned. "I can dress myself."

"Of course you can, my wise and gallant Sire." Merlin agreed, eyes wandering the room beyond.

Once more, just to assure himself that he was, indeed, King, Arthur huffed. Then added "Idiot."

"Prat." came the far too comfortable reply.

Yup, Merlin's head was just fine… well, as fine as it ever was.

"Arthur." Merlin warned softly, nodding back the way he had come.

The young King glanced over his shoulder.

Gwain was walking the Caw o Prydyn into sight. Trailing a distance behind were the Caw's sons.

Arthur took a deep breath. "Disappear, Merlin."

The servant frowned. "Why is everyone telling me to leave the room?" he complained.

Arthur looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Because you can't keep your mouth shut to save your life." He leaned close. "And your life defends on you keeping your mouth shut."

Merlin smirked. "Oh, I know how to keep…"

"Merlin, this is one of those mouth shut times." He glanced back at the Caw's sons. "Shut and invisible." He would have smiled at his friend's pout if it wasn't for wanting him safely tucked away in plain sight serving tables lined with Knights just as over protective as he was. If Arthur could, he would send both Merlin and Gwen away, locked behind thick, secure doors until those who had already accosted them were long gone.

Grumbling, Merlin entered the dining hall, quickly disappearing among the serving staff.

Arthur turned to greet his guest. "My Lord Caw o Prydyn."

"M' Lord Ar'ur." The Caw answered. "All 'e fanfare an' polishin' ready? Can we eat already?"

Gwain lowered his head, coughing to hide his laugh.

Arthur even found it hard to resist a very undignified laugh. "Sire, if it was up to me, we'd head the other direction. But, as my Lord Agravaine is fond of pointing out, what is expected of me as King…"

"Aye. You should hear m' Gareth. Huh."

The young King of Camelot did chuckle then. "Well, what do you say tonight we please our advisors; tomorrow we lock them in a little room to discuss how we can become fast friends, and we will enjoy the tournament."

Caw o Prydyn clapped Arthur on the shoulder with a bark of laughter, before heading into the hall.

Arthur rolled his shoulder, grunting.

"Tough for an old man, huh?" Gwain was grinning like a fool.

"I'm going to have a bruise." Arthur complained.

True to his nature, the Knight laughed and followed the Caw's clap with one of his own, with an encouraging "You'll live."

Diner went better than expected. Lord Agravaine had taken great care in seeing dinner would go without a hitch. Camelot's finest were seemingly scattered among the Caw's advisors, though Arthur knew the seating arrangement had taken hours of careful planning and strategy talks. Hours of matching interests and loyalties, fathers of available sons and daughters, while avoiding old angers and mistrusts…

If they were lucky, a few unions through marriage would strengthen any treaty between their Kingdoms.

Even the great Knights of Camelot were statically placed, sitting close to hand to each of the Caw's unpredictable sons.

Not that anyone expected any sort of mishap needing a handy sword at dinner.

Then again, it was when it is unexpected that it seems to happen the most.

Even Cook had done her part in seeing that as little as possible would disrupt the event. The usual pretty, prim, and proper serving staff, mingled with personal servants like Merlin, had been replaced with a hardier lot, some downright ugly. They turned and twisted about like dancers, avoiding spills and grabbing hands with equal ease. And, when an unwanted hand got too close, they weren't afraid one bit to remove it.

Cook had, indeed, gone out of her way.

Arthur was pretty sure he'd seen most of these servers in the area taverns.

Merlin, doing what he usually did, moved with a little less grace than the boxy professionals, but still managed to keep pace, arriving at the table the Kings shared before anyone else was served. And, to Arthur's amazement, he kept his mouth shut.

The young King was just about to sit back and relax when he heard a booming voice at a lower table call out "You! Li'le mouse! Here!"

Hueil mab Caw banged his mug on the table, waving for Merlin to come across the room and fill it.

Though the rest of the room seemed unaware of anything unusual, instantly the Knights had turned their attentions to the speaker, the effects of their wine vanishing without a trace.

Despite the sudden tension in the room, Merlin took a deep breath, casting a glance at Gwain who sat a few seats away, then turned and crossed the floor. "More wine, Lord?" he offered.

Hueil tilted his head slightly, smiling up at the servant. "Feelin' brave, li'le mouse?" he wondered, his tone playful.

Merlin didn't answer as he filled the cup. He was about to step away when another cup banged the table beside Hueil.

Eugrad leaned across his brother and banged his cup again. "Be a good mouse an' fill me mug. Ya shiny, gentle folk like yer mugs awful tiny."

"Suppose 'at be so 'ey can have 'ese pretty li'le decorations dancin' about, fillin' 'em tiny mugs, givin' some'in' to look at. Plan for 'e night's entertainment."

Eugrad chuckled. "Eh? Tell me, li'le mouse, you gonna be 'e night's entertainment, now? Perhaps noble Arthur PenDragon?"

Refusing to even look at the two men, Merlin began to pour Eugrad's drink. But the Pict jerked his cup to the side and wine splashed on the table. Merlin paused.

Again Eugrad pounded his cup on the table.

Again Merlin moved to fill it.

Again Eugrad jerked his cup aside.

Merlin looked up at the man.

Eugrad shook the spilled wine off his hand. "Must 'cause 'ey pretty. 'ey be lousy servants." His hand snapped out suddenly, stealing the pitcher out of Merlin's hands.

Merlin flinched.

Arthur tensed in his seat, leaning forward, ready to hurl himself at the man if he made any threatening moves. He knew he would never reach them before several ill-mannered, over-protective, and ungentle Knights did.

"Eugrad!" Percival suddenly scooted Merlin to the side.

With a snarl, the Pict jumped to his feet, his fists balled up, ready for a fight.

But the Knight offered a friendly smile. "Your folk say you're the man with an arm. Ever armed wrestled a Knight of Camelot?"

"Humph." Eugrad looked the young man up and down, the challenge momentarily distracting him from his target. "Ah don't do children. Grow a might an' ask again in a year or two."

Percival's eyebrows rose. "Sorry. I was lead to believe you had… spunk."

Hueil laughed.

Eugrad's eyes snapped down to glare at his brother.

Hueil shrugged, spreading his hands. "A challenge. Who can resist?" He took the wine pitcher and poured himself another glass.

Eugrad looked at the Knight again. Eyes narrowed, he snarled "Fine. Been a day or two since ah broke a man. Mayhap ah should start out wi' a boy. Work out 'e aches."

Percival rolled his big shoulders. "Huh." Was his answer, showing just how concern he was.

"Li'le mouse!" Eugrad snapped. "Clear 'is table!"

"Maybe…" Leon suggested, coming to stand beside Percival. "The two of you could make a better show of it at the tournament tomorrow?" He tilted his head slightly. "Arm wrestling is less a sport of the Ladies, and more for the cheering crowds."

Eugrad ground his teeth, but his brother ended his protest by saying "Aye. No need to send 'ese gentle lasses into fits of tears an' faints, eh, Eugrad? 'sides, 'ere not a fittin' crowd to see you put 'is young roaster in his place. Go gently now an' save it all for the morrow."

Eugrad glanced sharply at Hueil who didn't bother to return the look as he poured Eugrad another glass of wine and slid it in front of him. "Huh." The Pict grunted, snatching up the wine. "On the morrow 'en." He smiled over the rim of his glass. "Give 'e lad a chance to bulk up a might."

Percival shrugged. "Gives you a chance to catch up a might."

"Eh? Catch up on what?"

The young Knight shrugged. "You said it's been awhile since you've broken any men." He smirked. "I broken one of your own just today. And another is questionable." Officially, if verbally, throwing the gauntlet down, Percival turned and marched smartly back to his own seat.

0o0o0o0o0


End file.
